


All Apologies

by interpol



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Spanking, for my skankz, kinda possessive dirty talk for 2 seconds, makeshift gags?, this is ok i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 13:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interpol/pseuds/interpol
Summary: After arriving home late without answering the phone, you have some explaining to do.





	All Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure how i feel about this one

The air is very quiet and still in the darkness of the night. Glancing around, you move your keys slowly, fearing to make any noise at all.

You know you are in deep shit. You hope to evade it until the next morning.

There's a pause where you catch your breath - anxiety is fucking with you - and you listen to the crickets singing their little songs. There's some loud, distant music from a few houses away - you strain to hear it, but it doesn't help, as it's too distant.

Another moment passes and you take another deep breath and slowly push your key in the lock and twist, feeling your pulse going faster despite your efforts to calm down. There's a pause and you put your ear to the door, trying to hear any noise - but there is none, thankfully. Still as slow and as quiet as a church mouse, you push the door open and tiptoe in, feeling a little relieved. You just might be in the clear, thank God.

Further walking in, you try to adjust your eyes to the darkness, but it's a futile effort, as everything looks far too vague in the seemingly pitch-black night. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you turn on the flashlight and move forward, planning to creep into the bedroom and somehow get into bed without waking him up. "Hello."

Ah, shit.

Light floods the room, and you squint as your eyes have to adjust yet again. Tensing up, you feel as if a metal pole has been rammed down your spine and you stand straight and as stiff as a board, mentally trying to brace yourself for the tongue lashing you're probably going to get.

But for a moment, there's nothing - complete silence. Your brain catches up and you finally find the ability to say something.

"...Hi."

There's another long stretch where nobody says anything and he steps closer, practically making you sweat. Eyeing him up, you’re surprised - he’s still in his suit. Who knows how long he’s been waiting there?

You swallow thickly, feeling a pit in your stomach - not out of fear, but out of a bit of shame. It's a simple concept: he gets worried. You know that. And here you were, making him worried.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Another pause. Mostly because you don't have an answer that he'd like - you had gotten too caught up in other things to respond, but that makes it sound like you don't care enough to even find a minute for him, so you don't bother to open your mouth.

"Your phone didn't die."

The guilt feels like it's seeping through your entire body.

He sighs loudly and begins to walk around you in a predatory way that frightens you, but also excites you - just a touch. 

"Listen, I'm sorry," you say, voice soft, quiet, sweet. "I should've been paying more attention."

"Paying more attention," he echoes, making you wonder where exactly he's trying to go with this one. He circles you for another second, and steps close enough to you so he can reach out and stroke your cheek with his thumb. "I think you owe me an apology," he murmurs while a blend of excitement, fear, and arousal pumps through you at lightspeed.

He reaches back and pulls out his gun, very deliberate and accurate - as he always is. He slowly puts it up to your lips, and you hesitate for a brief moment but slowly open your mouth as he pushes the barrel in.

The metal is cold and unrelenting, and you suck on it carefully, fearing it'll scrape your teeth. He puts his hand on the back of your head and guides it back, so you can accept more of the gun into your mouth easily. It slides to the back of your throat and you gag, eyes watering up a bit, and he pulls out, seemingly not wanting to push you too far - what a gentleman.

While you swallow and take a few deep breaths, he turns and walks back to the couch, and motions for you to follow him. You stop just in front of him without actually sitting, feeling unsure of every single move. The main goal for you at the moment is to avoid making him more upset with you.

"Come on," he says, voice cool and collected. "Over my knee."

A little laugh escapes your lips involuntarily, feeling a little playful. "You've got to be kidding me," you taunt.

A little smile graces his lips for a second and makes you relieved that he's not too upset with you. But he just repeats himself, and you realize that he's serious. You obey, mostly out of curiosity of how this is going to go.

He pulls your dress up and your panties down and you squirm, feeling rather exposed, but he puts one of his hands on your hip. "Stop," he says, firm once more.

"Okay, sorry," you giggle. There's a giddy feeling overtaking you, perhaps as a response to the unrelenting tension a minute before. There's a moment where he seems to be moving around, looking for something, and you can't manipulate your body enough to look back so you wait impatiently, feeling your heart pick up a bit in wonder.

Suddenly, slowly, you feel something cold and sharp grazing the back of your thighs, and it takes a minute to kick in that he's got a knife. It makes you stiffen up again, mostly because you don't want to get stabbed, but you relax just as quickly - he wouldn't do that to you.

It's an oddly pleasurable sensation as he slowly draws down, pressing just lightly enough the skin doesn't get cut, and going back up again, the tingling making you want to twitch. You play with your lower lip between your teeth, suppressing urges to squirm in response. "You're good at this," he says gently, pulling the knife away. "You practically didn't move."

A bit of pride flows through you and you smile, getting a little rush from his approval. You again try and turn to move and look at him, but he completely stops you this time.

"We're not done yet," he says, grinning slightly again. "You owe me an apology."

Letting out a little sigh, you begin: "John, I'm really sorry-"

"Not like that," he mumbles, and there's a delay before you feel a sharp sting on your ass. A little "ow" escapes you and he seems to laugh a little about it.

"Are you sorry?"

“Yes,” you say, a bit rushed. “I’m sorry.”

He smacks your ass again, harder this time, and you let out a pleasurable little moan.

“I’m sorry,  _sir_ .” He runs his hands up and down your legs absentmindedly before giving you another solid hit.

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Will you ignore me again?” He hits you even harder this time, and you let out a loud moan before beginning to speak.

“I won’t ignore you again, sir.” Your voice trembles a bit as you say it.

“Good,” he says softly as he pulls his hands away from you and seems to do more shuffling around. There’s a faint stinging sensation that lingers as you lay there, happy and very much aroused. “Head up and open your mouth.”

Doing as you’re told, you see something between his hands before you feel and taste fabric entering your mouth. It’s his tie, you realize as he wraps it around your head, making you let out a little noise of distress. His hands are swift and skillful, making you wonder if he’s done this before.

His hand reaches down and nudges your thighs apart, and you go with the motions and feel him slowly insert a single finger into your cunt. It’s an easy entrance, and you moan, muffled through the makeshift gag.

Another finger quickly slides in with it, and his thumb begins to slowly rub your clit, sending shivers through your body as you try and move against his hand. “I love seeing you like this, little one,” curling his fingers inside you as he continues. “A needy mess, just for me." He leans in a bit closer, or you think he does, as his voice sounds closer to you. "No matter what you do, you’ll always be mine.”

You try to mumble out an answer, but it just comes out a  jumble  of noise. Hearing him laugh lowly at your attempts, you give up, but you feel yourself getting closer to the edge as your desperation continues and you push faster against him, practically trying to fuck yourself against his hand. “You’re an  _eager _ little thing,” he says so quietly you could hardly hear him.

It’s not long until you feel yourself clenching around him, letting out strangled noises through the tie-gag, squirming in his lap. The motions don’t stop until you’re finally done, a wave of tiredness suddenly crashing into you as he pulls out. Slowly, you meander yourself off of his lap and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re not really mad at me, are you?” The question is genuine.

“No,” the answer simple. “I just wanted to have some fun with you.” He stands and pulls you against him, and you lean on him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble sleepily. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“You better not,” he teases as you both walk into the bedroom. You yawn softly.


End file.
